


Keep It On

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus loves Hoodies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Riding, hoodie kink, non-graphic consensual handjob between two seventeen year olds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Albus loves hoodies. Scorpius loves Albus. Albus definitely loves Scorpius. A story in which there is a lot of fucking, a lot of love, and an abundance of hoodies.





	Keep It On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetclarity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetclarity/gifts).



> Thank you aibidil for the wonderful beta!

Among the many items on the long list of things Albus did that drove Scorpius crazy was his insistence on wearing a hoodie all the time. Except it didn’t drive Scorpius crazy the way it did when Albus left his socks on the floor next to the clothing bin instead of _in_ it, or when he ate all the biscuits without sharing. 

No, it made him feel _crazy_ —made him feel hot and bothered and needy every time he looked at him in it—and it wasn’t fucking fair.

It honestly didn’t make sense, either, especially since Scorpius didn’t even like hoodies that much. They were certainly practical. They were quite cosy looking and the hood was good for keeping your hair dry if it decided to rain unexpectedly, and it had a nifty pocket in the front—Scorpius really liked pockets—and they were pretty warm. 

It was just that, they were sort of shapeless and they weren’t very stylish. Scorpius much preferred a crisp white shirt with a jumper over the top. 

But Albus, Albus loved hoodies. 

The first time Scorpius had met him, Albus had been eleven years old and plopping into the seat beside him in the otherwise empty train compartment. Albus had been wearing a hoodie that was at least two sizes too big that day—“‘S my brother’s,” he’d mumbled, a bit self consciously, almost _defiantly_ , pulling the oversized cuffs over his hands like little bearpaws as he’d slumped down into the seat—and he’d had a look about him that Scorpius knew all too well. He looked like he wanted to hide, like he didn’t want to be noticed.

But Scorpius had noticed him, alright, and he never wanted to stop.

As they got older, Albus stopped wearing the hoodies big enough to swallow him whole, but he never stopped wearing them. They just became one size too big instead of two. Scorpius still thought they were a bit ugly, so he’d eventually taken it upon himself to drag his father to Muggle London at Christmas in search of better ones, because surely there had to be more variety than the simple grey or hand-me-down ones Albus always wore. That Christmas, Scorpius had needed to use three of the Malfoy owls to send off his gift to Albus—six hoodies seemed a bit much, his father had tried to reason, but Scorpius had insisted Albus needed them all. Scorpius was fourteen, and the idea of buying clothing, of holding in his hands something that would go on Albus’s body, had made him flush with a confusing mess of want and embarrassment, before he’d finally sent the gift away.

Albus had sent him back a hastily scribbled thank-you note along with a hard to find volume of Muggle poetry that Scorpius had spent all night reading. When they’d gotten back to school, Albus was wearing one of the hoodies Scorpius had got him—a dark green one with a pair of silver snakes trailing down one arm—and there was an unfamiliar flush of nervousness on his face. Scorpius dropped his bag, rushing across the room to tackle Albus to his bed with laughter. Scorpius loved Christmas, but he hated Christmas holidays. Being away from Albus for two weeks felt a bit like he was missing a limb.

After that it became a bit of a thing, Scorpius buying clothes for Albus. Usually it was hoodies; sometimes, though, it was soft cotton t-shirts that he knew Albus would like, or a pair of soft grey joggers he knew Albus would love to wear on weekends lounging in their common room. And if Scorpius liked to know exactly what the material felt like before it was on Albus’s body, or liked the way the clothing clung to Albus’s lanky, boyish frame, well, that was just a bonus.

By the time they were sixteen, Scorpius was well aware that his level of investment in the clothes that went on Albus’s body was slightly beyond normal. Especially since he got as hot and bothered thinking about Albus putting them on as he did thinking about him taking them off. 

Albus liked to joke that Scorpius only bought him clothes so he could steal them without having to admit he liked hoodies. Scorpius always bit his tongue and refrained from saying the truth—that he liked the hoodies best when they’d just come off Albus, when they were still radiating warmth from his body and they smelled like the apple shampoo Albus liked so much—he refrained from telling him the only reason Scorpius liked hoodies was because they felt like the only part of Albus he could ever have without fucking everything up. 

It’d been five years and Scorpius still thought hoodies were ridiculous, but he was pretty sure he was the ridiculous one since his late-night wank fantasties usually involved pressing Albus into the bed and fucking him in nothing but his hoodie. He was pretty sure he should be thinking about fucking Albus naked, but he’d gotten so used to seeing Albus in hoodies that they were as much a part of him as his mass of black hair—and oh boy the fantasies Scorpius had about _that_ were also probably slightly less than healthy to be having about his best friend. 

Scorpius had given up making sense of the things about Albus that turned him on—since that time he’d gotten hard watching Albus lick a stray glob of strawberry jam off his forearm like a baby kneazle in fifth year.

The year they were seventeen, though, was the year Scorpius was absolutely and positively certain he might die. He’d spent the entire month of July with Albus’s family, sleeping in Albus’s room—and Merlin there weren’t any roomates, it was only _them_ —and laughing with Albus over breakfast and watching the way he was somehow more guarded yet also more relaxed around his family. 

Worst, though, was the fact that Albus still wore the bloody hoodies _everywhere_ , even though it was summer. It should’ve been ridiculous to see him walking around his parents’ garden in his shorts, his bare toes wiggling in the grass in the midday sun, and a hoodie. Instead, all it did was make Scorpius have to excuse himself to the loo as he tried not to slide his hands into his trousers and pull himself off while listening to Albus and James bicker in the kitchen over who had polished off the pitcher of Pimms and whose job it was to make more. It didn’t seem fair that the older Scorpius got, the less control he had over his own body and emotions, but he supposed that was one more Albus-related thing he couldn’t explain with logic.

Nighttime at the Potter household was the worst. Because every night he saw the other boy strip his hoodie off and chuck it on the floor, mumbling that it was too to sleep in it. But the last night he stayed there, the last night before he was supposed to go home, was the night everything changed. Because fuck, _fuck_ —Albus was crawling into his bed in just his boxers, all his bare skin, the soft looking planes of his stomach on display—and Scorpius’s cock was hard so fast he’d had to drop himself face first onto the small double bed on the floor and wish for death to envelop him.

“Why are you on the floor?” Albus had hissed. Then the bed had creaked and when Scorpius lifted his head from the pillow to peer up at Albus, he was leaning over the edge of the mattress and staring at Scorpius like he’d grown a second head. Then he’d simply lifted the covers in a silent invitation as if Scorpius sleeping in his bed was somehow supposed to have been obvious. 

Scorpius was left wondering if his face was as red as it felt. Surely he couldn’t get into Albus’s bed—could he? Not with a raging hard-on and arms and legs that were too long to squeeze into a small bed with another teenage boy. 

It’d been years since they had shared a bed. Certainly they’d done it quite often the first few years at Hogwarts, but the older they’d gotten the more they’d become aware that their housemates whispered, and if there was anything Albus and Scorpius both hated it was being the centre of gossip. So they’d put that habit behind them, even if Scorpius had been awfully sorry to have stopped. They weren’t kids anymore. They were men—well, almost men, Scorpius had three chest hairs now!—and things that didn’t used to get hard when they touched definitely did now. But Albus was making that face at him that Scorpius found impossible to say no to and even though Scorpius knew it was a monumentally dangerous idea, he crawled across the floor and slipped into Albus’s bed. Albus’s body was so fucking warm. Scorpius had to close his eyes and picture Slughorn reciting potions ingredients to stop himself from coming because fuck, fuck, fuck his knuckles were brushing against the hair on Albus’s thighs and he could smell Albus’s shampoo and all he wanted to do was roll on top of him and never move.

“I’m glad you came,” Albus whispered, bumping his knee against Scorpius’s, and even though Scorpius was wearing pyjama bottoms, he’d felt the reality of Albus’s bare knee.

Scorpius’s heart had nearly beat out of his chest, his aching cock suffocating beneath the thin sheet. Albus had dropped off to sleep remarkably fast, his breathing slow and even beside him, and it’d taken all of Scorpius’s self control not to touch himself right then, afraid that might be as close as he’d ever get to getting off with Albus. Somehow, though, he’d resisted the urge, only to wake up the next morning with Albus curled up against him, Albus’s leg thrown over his and something hard and warm pressing into his side. Scorpius would’ve been embarrassed at the fact that all it took was knowing Albus was hard to make him hard too, but he was seventeen for fuck’s sake, and Albus was practically naked and touching him and a person could only be expected to have so much self control.

“Morning,” Albus had mumbled, and Scorpius had held his breath as Albus shifted, wondering what Albus would do when he realised they were both hard. There was no way he wouldn’t notice, because his leg was thrown over Scorpius so that his thigh was on Scorpius’s now-hard cock and Albus’s own erection was pressed firmly into his side. 

For long moments neither of them moved and then Albus did something that Scorpius would later realised took more bravery than he himself had possessed. He’d moved his leg lower, freeing Scorpius’s cock as he let his fingertips ghost over Scorpius’s bare stomach where his t-shirt had ridden up. 

Scorpius’s head spun and he’d been quite certain his brain might actually implode as Albus whispered, “We could...we could do something about that if you want?”

What happened after that had been simultaneously the greatest and most embarrassing moment of Scorpius’s life. He’d barely opened his mouth to whisper _yes_ before Albus’s mouth was on his, and fuck the noises he made would’ve been embarrassing except Albus was making echoing ones so he couldn’t even care about how needy he sounded. No, the embarrassing thing came seconds later, literally, when Albus’s familiar fingers wrapped around Scorpius’s cock and he’d come instantly, coating the inside of his boxers and Albus’s hand in his come as he’d cried out against Albus’s mouth. He’d wished then the mattress might swallow him whole to save him the embarrassment of having to look at Albus’s face. Sure he was seventeen and that was the first time someone else had touched his penis and yeah it was Albus, which, _fuck_ —made it about a hundred times better, but still he wasn’t supposed to come that fast. Surely that was some kind of record and not one Scorpius wanted to hold.

“Fucking hell,” Albus had choked out, and just when Scorpius was sure that yes, his life was over and he’d rather be dead than face this ultimate embarrassment, Albus crashed his lips to Scorpius’s and climbed on top of him. 

“Fuck, fuck— _I love you,_ ” Albus had said in between so many kisses peppered across Scorpius’s cheeks and forehead and mouth he could barely breathe. “You just— _fuck_ , why are you so perfect, Scorp?” Albus had asked, and then he’d moved his mouth to cover Scorpius's and Scorpius couldn’t even answer because Albus was grinding his cock down against Scorpius’s sensitive cock and it was almost too much and not enough and he wished he was hard again because it felt really, really good.

Scorpius wanted to say _You’re the perfect one, Al_. He wanted to tell him that Albus was the only person on the planet that liked Scorpius exactly how he was—well, except for his mum and dad—and that he was pretty sure no one else on the planet would be turned on by Scorpius premature ejaculation. He wanted to tell him he ached for Albus, that he dreamed of him. That he wanted to make him laugh and smile and fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him and Merlin, he wanted to fuck him, too, and be fucked by him. Scorpius wanted to tell Albus that he was everything, that he wanted everything. Except Albus wouldn’t stop kissing him and rutting his hips against him and then Albus was shuddering, hands bunched in the duvet on either side of him as he whimpered into Scorpius’s neck while he came and all Scorpius could manage to get out was, “I’ve always loved you, Al.”

Scorpius had been terrified about what might change after that. As they lay there, with Albus collapsed on top of him, sticky and sated, he’d felt suddenly terrified they might have ruined everything.

It turned out he needn't have worried though, because instead of going home alone, Albus came to stay with him until they went back to school. And despite being a guest in his home Albus still made himself comfortable like he always had and drank straight from the milk carton in front of him, still wore his ratty socks with the holes in one toe, still wore his hoodies all the time, still acted like Scorpius’s best friend—because he was. Because, yeah, they were...they were _lovers_ now...but they’d been friends first, best friends, and they would always be, he realised.

The important things that Scorpius had been terrified of losing didn’t get lost, instead they felt magnified, because now when Albus wore nothing but his hoodie and boxers, Scorpius was free to slip his hands beneath them, and now when the worry lines on Albus’s face got too deep, Scorpius could kiss them away. Now when Albus collapsed on top of him in laughter, Scorpius didn’t have to worry about scaring him away with lingering touches and looks that revealed far too much, because Albus was touching him back and his eyes held the same furtive hope and need. Being with Albus was everything he’d ever wanted; it was a dream come true, touching him and kissing him and holding him and finally not being afraid of being too much, because he saw reflected in Albus’s eyes what he felt in his own heart—love, deep and powerful and unbreakable love—and he knew that just like they’d been their entire lives, in this they were equal. 

Their desire for each other, their love for each other, was equally matched and Scorpius had never known happiness like he did the moment he’d realised that yes, Albus wanted him just as desperately as he wanted Albus.

The next year at Hogwarts, their last year, had been filled with quietly sneaking into each other’s beds once their roommates were fast asleep, mastering privacy and notice-me-not charms, hurried handjobs in dark alcoves when everyone else was at lunch, and lazy weekends spent gazing at the lake, holding hands and dreaming of their future. It wasn’t all sex, of course. They still spent most of their time acting exactly like they had before, studying together, laughing together, stealing the Slytherin team’s brooms and flying around the pitch in low lazy circles when no one else was around. 

Once they’d left Hogwarts, they’d gotten a flat together . It hadn’t even been a question. A week before leaving Albus had been bent over the breakfast table with his head in the Prophet and when Scorpius had asked what he was doing he’d peered over the top of the paper and said, “Well someone has to find us a flat or we’re gonna end up having to test our privacy spells while fucking in our parents’ homes.” Scorpius had felt his heart grow two sizes bigger, and he scooted close enough to Albus that their sides were pressed together and rested his chin on Albus’s shoulder to peruse the flat listings together. 

That’d been nearly six months ago and not a day went by that Scorpius didn’t wake up and have to close his eyes and remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming, that Albus really was asleep in his bed—no, _their_ bed—and if he was lucky that he always would be. There was a comfort in being loved by Albus that made Scorpius feel whole in a way he hadn’t even known was possible, in a way he hadn’t known he was missing. He’d loved his parents and had known they loved him, but it wasn’t the same as knowing someone loved you who didn’t have to—in knowing that he just happened to be everything Albus wanted and needed—and it made Scorpius feel overwhelmed in the best ways possible.

Scorpius liked waking up in the flat they shared, and knowing everything in it was evidence of the future they were carving out for themselves. He liked Albus’s books scattered over the coffee table and the cupboards filled with the vile Muggle Pop-Tarts Albus was oddly fond of. He liked the way his potions notes were stacked on the desk beside Albus’s notes on wandlore. All of the things they had in their flat were things they’d accumulated together, and Scorpius—who had grown up an only child, with everything being only his—had felt a strange sort of euphoria at the idea of having nothing that belonged to him and him alone. He liked that everything was _theirs_.

Everything about their life made Scorpius happy. Deliriously and ecstatically fucking happy. Sometimes, like now, Scorpius would look at Albus and feel the urge to wake him from his sleep because he wanted to touch him, wanted to make him his over and over again. It didn’t matter that they fell asleep together and woke up together, that they spent every moment they weren’t at work together, because it was never enough. It would never be enough. Scorpius could live to be two hundred and there would never be enough moments in his day for loving Albus the way he deserved.

Albus exhaled a slow breath, his mouth falling open against his pillow. Scorpius’s fingers stopped just above Albus’s hip. He wanted to touch him so bad he nearly burned with it, but he waited, watching as Albus rolled over onto his back, throwing his arm over his head and shifting in his sleep. He managed to kick the sheet down to his thighs, revealing his warm, strong thighs accentuated by the plain grey boxers he wore. They fit snuggly against his body, the flat expanse of his stomach on display from the way his hoodie had bunched up. Scorpius felt his cock hardening already, fingers itching to run from Albus’s belly button down the dark trail of hair that led into his boxers.

Albus’s hair was so much darker than Scorpius’s and now that he was nearly twenty there was a generous amount of it on his thighs and chest, but the area Scorpius liked most—well aside from the hair on Albus’s head which Scorpius touched at every possible opportunity—was the thick treasure trail that led to Albus’s cock.

Albus shifted again, his right leg moving sideways, knee bent a bit. It gave Scorpius just the right amount of room to settle himself on his knees between Albus’s spread legs and watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. He looked at the clock on the bedside table—4:06 am—and knew that it was way too early to be waking Albus up. Then again, Albus was usually up for sex with Scorpius whenever he suggested it, so now shouldn’t be that much different. Especially since Albus had seemed pretty okay with the idea of possibly being woken up for sex one day when Scorpius had quietly suggested it during movie night.

His decision made Scorpius gave in to temptation and slowly bunched the hoodie up even more, exposing the rest of Albus’s stomach. Albus made a soft sigh in his sleep but didn’t move, so Scorpius continued, letting his warm fingers glide across the softness of his belly, dragging down his hip bones and circling up again until they were at the top of the dark trail of hair. Abus’s cock began to harden, tenting the front of his boxers and making Scorpius lick his lips in anticipation. Scorpius loved sex with Albus, all sex. He wasn’t picky. Naked Albus in any context was pretty fucking perfect as far as Scorpius was concerned. But his absolute favourite was lazy, sleepy sex. The kind where Albus clung to him, quiet gasps and desperate pleas in the stillness of the early morning or late evening that made Scorpius nearly frantic with desire. There was something heady about knowing the first thing Albus was aware of upon waking was Scorpius’s desire for him.

Scorpius replaced his fingers with his mouth, kissing his way down Albus’s stomach—lips pressing into the soft line of hair—watching the way Albus’s stomach muscles quivered beneath his mouth. 

By the time Scorpius’s fingers were dipping below the waistband of Albus’s boxers he knew Albus wasn’t asleep anymore, his breathing too fast and the movements of his body too purposeful as he shifted his hips to get them closer to Scorpius’s mouth.

“What time is it?” Albus mumbled, groaning when Scorpius slowly drags the boxers down and Albus’s cock springs free, slapping against his hip and standing erect just inches from Scorpius’s mouth.

“Time for me to make you feel good,” Scorpius answered, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance Albus would chuck a pillow at him if he actually told him what time it was.

Albus huffed out a laugh, his eyes sliding open and locking on Scorpius as Scorpius dragged his tongue along the underside of Albus’s cock from the base to tip, dipping his tongue in the slit and watching with delight as Albus’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“Fuck, Scorp,” he breathed, and his voice is so heavy, laced with sleep and desire and Scorpius felt drunk on desire.

“Want to taste you,” Scorpius said only seconds before he opened his mouth and swallowed down Albus’s cock. They’d done this enough that Scorpius knew exactly how to make Albus come in sixty seconds flat. Alternately, he also knew just how slow he could go to drag it out, just the right intensity with which to hollow his cheeks and suck as his fingers ghosted near Albus’s hole to keep him on the cusp of coming. 

Sometimes Albus was loud, begging and pleading, but this morning he was quiet, stifling his moans against his closed fist and something about it made Scorpius feel a bit desperate, almost reckless.

“Albus,” he whispered, pulling his mouth off Albus’s cock. 

Albus grunted, moving his hands from his mouth and blinking down at Scorpius kneeling between his legs. 

“Want you to ride me,” Scorpius told him honestly.

Albus exhaled, raising himself up onto his elbows and nodding. Scorpius wasn’t sure which one of them liked this position better. He suspected they both loved it equally, though perhaps for different reasons.

“Do you want the lube or your wand?” Albus asked, already reaching towards the bedside table. Scorpius dragged his tongue along his bottom lip as he debated his choices. A spell would be faster, but he knew Albus loved Scorpius’s fingers in his arse and truth be told he liked having any part of his body—tongue, fingers, cock—inside of Albus too.

“Lube,” he finally answered, pleased with his choice when Albus’s cheeks flushed in anticipation. 

Albus was quick, yanking the drawer open roughly and pulling out the large jar of lube that Scorpius had brewed up just last week. Scorpius made quick work of his own clothing while Albus watched him, tossing his shirt on the floor followed swiftly by his boxers and pyjama bottoms.

Albus passed him the jar and he twisted off the top, feeling a shiver of surprise upon realising it was almost empty already, and wondering just how much sex they must have. Promising himself to make a new batch tomorrow, he dipped his fingers into the jar and scooped out a generous amount of the thick substance, inhaling the familiar scent of essential oils he’d used—orange peel and cinnamon—before coating his cock.

Albus watched with lust blown eyes, scrambling up onto his knees as he started to tug off his hoodie but Scorpius reached out with his clean hand to stop him. “Leave it on. Want to fuck you in it,” he confesses, always feeling more free to express his sexual desires in these liminal hours when it feels like they’re the only people in the world.

“Merlin, Scorp,” Albus exhaled, and Scorpius felt a wave of arousal when he realised that Albus seemed to like the idea just as much as he did. 

“Still gotta finish taking those off though,” Scorpius laughed softly, nodding his head to the boxers sitting just below Albus’s arse. Albus ducked his head, biting the inside of his cheek and hurriedly taking them off and dropping them onto the floor. He got back on his knees, his cock now leaking precome against the hem of his hoodie as he crawled across the bed towards Scorpius.

“Want to make you feel good,” Scorpius said quietly, moving to his knees and meeting Albus in the middle, the familiar softness of Albus’s hoodie rubbing up against his sensitive nipples and their cocks bumping together as Scorpius reached between Albus’s legs to coat his entrance with the rest of the lube. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Fuck, you do, you always do,” Albus said and Scorpius pressed the first finger in without warning. Albus’s mouth fell open, his head tipping back and his hips jutting forward against Scorpius. 

“You feel so good. Merlin, you’re still loose from last night on the sofa. You love it when I fuck you, don’t you?” Scorpius murmured, and fuck this is still so new but he loved it. Well, the talking part isn’t new. Scorpius was pretty sure he came out of the womb babbling and hadn’t stopped since, not even when he and Albus had sex for the first time. But what was once merely incoherent narration of what they were doing, of the way he felt or wanted to make Albus feel had begun to moph recently, turning into something that makes Scorpius’s blush when he thinks of it later, but makes him feel positively powerful when it’s happening, and if Albus’s lust-hooded eyes and fingers clenched on his forearms are any indication, then he likes it just as much.

Because Albus, it turns out, loves Scorpius’s mouth, especially when it’s filthy. The first time, it had been an accident. He’d moved his mouth to Albus’s ear and whispered, “Going to stick my penis in you and fuck you so good,” before he’d thought twice and Albus had clawed at his back and come between them untouched. Scorpius had felt overcome with the realisation that his words held so much power, that Albus liked them so much. That had been just a few weeks ago and Scorpius had been getting braver, bolder, with his words every time they did this.

“You were made for me, you know that, you feel so good,” Scorpius whispered against the side of Albus’s neck as his second finger moved in and out of Albus’s body in scissoring motions that were slowly loosening the ring of muscles.

“Scorpius, fuck—please,” Albus whimpered, his hands moving up to tangle in Scorpius’s hair as he pulled him in for a searing kiss.

Scorpius pulled out of the kiss, panting and resting his forehead against Albus’s as he crooked his finger to rub against the pad of Albus’s prostate, watching as Albus’s eyes closed as he shuddered against him.

“Need you. Need you now,” Albus groaned.

“I always need you,” Scorpius breathed, crawling back to leaning against the mound of pillows, spreading his legs wide and giving his cock two long, firm strokes as he watched Albus crawl up his body.

“Merlin, Al, you’re so beautiful. Want to see you on my cock, want to watch you sink down on it, watch your arse swallow my prick and know that there’s a part of me inside your body.”

Albus’s face was flushed and he nodded, blowing the hair from his eyes and straddling Scorpius’s waist. He grabbed his hoodie pulling it up so he could watch Scorpius’s cock slowly disappear into his body. Scorpius’s hands rubbed up and down Albus’s thighs, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his fingertips until Albus’s arse was flush against his hips as deep as he could get.

“Fuck, Albus,” Scorpius moaned, sliding his hands up across Albus’s hips and beneath the hoodie to press them against his stomach. “Fuck yourself on me. You know you want to.”

“Fuck, your mouth, Scorp,” Albus said, looking desperate as he lifted himself up onto his knees and brought himself back down again. It felt so good, Scorpius was positive he could close his eyes and lay back and come from this and this alone. But it wasn’t enough, he needed to watch Albus do this, needed to keep touching him.

“Why exactly am I wearing this?” Albus asked in between groans, changing his movement into a maddeningly slow pace.

Scorpius chewed on his bottom lip and decided he’d been honest about everything else, why not this. “Because...because when you wear them I want them to be a reminder of what you look like being fucked by me. I want you to wear it to dinner with our dads tonight and I want you to sit there knowing the last time you had it on I was buried inside of you making you mine. I want you to writhe in that hoodie, want you to sweat from fucking yourself on me, want you to tip over the edge and cover it in your come and know that every time you wear it I fucked you in it.”

“Fucking hell, Scorp,” Albus choked out, shuddering at his words. 

Scorpius pulled his hands off Albus’s stomach and moved them to the front of hoodie, fisting his hands in the thick material and pulling hard on it every time Albus lifted off his cock so that he had the leverage to make Albus slam back down harder and deeper. “Want you to remember my hands on this as I helped you fuck yourself on my cock, want you to remember that I can’t ever get enough of you—that I need you harder and deeper and that I’m fucking consumed by you and I want you to be consumed by me too.”

“You think I’m not?” Albus gasped out. “Think I don’t look at you and feel my skin, my heart, my fucking everything, burning for you? Fuck, Scorp you’re everything. Fucking everything.”

“Fuck—I’m gonna,” Scorpius started, but broke off when Albus slammed down hard, clenching his arse muscles and making Scorpius come with a strangled moan, his hands fisted in Albus’s hoodie so tight he nearly ripped a hole in it. 

Albus barely moved, the slowest of thrusts as he milked the orgasm from Scorpius’s body until his softened cock was falling from Albus’s arse.

“Fuck,” Scorpius said breathlessly, eyes on Albus.

“Watch me,” Albus instructed, and Scorpius felt helpless to do anything else as Albus wrapped his hand around his cock and began to stroke. He was on his knees still, back arched as his cock flew through his fingers. He was so close, Scorpius could tell from the hitch in his breathing and the way his knuckles were turning whites as he tried to slow his rhythm. Two more strokes and then Albus was coming in thick spurts that covered his hoodie and left him kneeling before Scorpius a complete and utter mess, his hair a complete disaster and his body covered in a sheen of sweat and come.

Albus looks utterly wrecked, his chest heaving as he collapsed onto the bed beside Scorpius with a groan. “Four in the morning, Scorp. You fucking wanker.”

Scorpius laughed, wondering when Albus had looked at the clock. He rolled over on top of Albus’s back to grab his wand off the bedside table, casting two very effective cleaning charms before throwing himself back onto the bed and closing his eyes.

It was only Albus, and Scorpius had never been embarrassed to tell him anything, but there was still something new and almost scary about the dirty talk, about how much Scorpius liked it, that mades him feel vulnerable after. Seeming to sense his nerves, Albus closed the small gap between them, throwing his bare leg over Scorpius and burrowing into his neck. Albus’s hoodie had that just cleaned charm smell, but there was a lingering scent of sex and his shampoo that made Scorpius’s now soft cock twitch with appreciation. Fuck he loved him.

“I have a lot of hoodies, you know,” Albus whispered, kissing the spot just below Scorpius’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah you do,” Scorpius replied, not entirely sure where this was going.

Albus lifted his head to look at Scorpius, a faint red hue tinting his cheeks. “Well, we’ve just got a lot of hoodies we should...we should do that to.”

“Oh— _oh_!” Scorpius said with a smile, wrapping his other arm around Albus’s back and pulling him in close. “Yes, yes we should.”

Albus nodded, dropping his head back down on Scorpius shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. “I love you.”

Scorpius closes his eyes and smiles, listening to Albus’s breathing rapidly slow as he drifts back to sleep. His last thought before he follows is that he’s pretty sure he’s got at least one of his own hoodies buried in the wardrobe somewhere and it’d only be fair if Albus fucked him in it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://goldentruth813.tumblr.com/) <3


End file.
